Hmm, memories are so odd. Of course, Zippy couldn't have known who was knocking at his door but he might remember it in retrospect. The space doesn't feel dangerous though. Just heavy with grief.

"Nothing is sparkling on sight," she reports and begins touching the paperwork on Mr. Zebrowski's desk in the hopes of changing that. "He does have a thing for personalized stationery though." Her fingers light across the bank statements, official mayoral letterhead, the Zippy's Lips notepad, and land finally on the crumpled up speech.